


Water Lily

by onepercent



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Kinda, M/M, Modern Era, They’re on an island, its cool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23214874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepercent/pseuds/onepercent
Summary: Grantaire shipwrecks onto a tropical island far from his home in the Northeast. He is drawn to one particular beautiful golden islander, whose sharp eyes seem to track his every move.[EDIT: Discontinued, unlikely to be finished.]
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 14





	Water Lily

**Author's Note:**

> It’s social distancing time babey! I actually started this probably several years ago and just recently started it back up again. I really enjoyed my first draft, and with a few tweaks to the story, here it is. Of course don’t expect regular updates because of who I am as a person, but I’m really looking forward to sharing this story with y’all after not writing anything in a pretty long time. Hopefully the updates will be quick because I’m not allowed to leave the house unless to get food. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Grantaire woke up surprisingly comfortable. His head didn’t hurt like it usually did after one of his many ill-advised drunken joyrides on the open ocean, and his back, thrown off by some stupid escapade a couple years back in his uni days and only growing worse with age, wasn’t sore at all. A soft light prompted his eyes to flutter open. He had to blink a few times to get them to focus (as much as they could without his glasses or contacts, at least), and when they did so, they stared hazily into bright, steely blue eyes directly above his. 

“You’ve awaken,” said the boy leaning above him. Blond hair tickled Grantaire’s nose. 

“So it seems,” said Grantaire, his eyes wide. The blue-eyed boy sat back a little, kneeling beside Grantaire’s bed—well, if it could be called that. Grantaire felt the long slick veins of foreign leaves beneath his fingertips, and the bottom halves of his legs and his heels had settled snugly in cool white sand. He had no pillow. He tried to stand up, but the blue-eyed boy pushed him down with a nimble-fingered hand before he could get very far. 

“You really mustn’t move,” said the blue-eyed boy staunchly. “You were badly hurt, and you still need a bit more time to fully heal.” 

Grantaire frowned. “How long have I been out?” He looked around the room, er, hut, more like. There were no walls, but a high roof. Everything beyond a few feet was blurry, and the golden hair of the blue-eyed boy eclipsed the right side of his vision. 

“A few hours,” said the blue-eyed boy simply. 

“Ah,” said Grantaire. He felt like he had slept forever. It was the first time he had felt well-rested in a very long time, and it was lying on the ground under a strange blond man, surely a far cry from the chilled harbors of Maine from which he left. He was not as confused—or perhaps afraid—as he thought he should have been. He mostly just wanted his glasses. The blue-eyed boy quietly analyzed him with his hands on his knees. 

“Can I have my glasses?” asked Grantaire as he rubbed at his eyes. Salt clung to his fingertips before dissolving against the warmth of his skin.

The blue-eyed boy nodded slowly, and got to his feet. He disappeared for a few moments before returning with another dark-skinned man. “You’re awake,” said he. 

“You’re very observant,” mumbled Grantaire. 

The blue-eyed boy tugged on his companion’s sleeve and whispered something sharply in his ear. “Ah,” said the dark-skinned man as he rifled through his pockets. He pulled out its contents and set them down beside Grantaire before holding out his hand to help Grantaire sit up. Before him was his glasses—a little dented, but no real damage to the lenses—, his waterlogged cell, a wrinkled receipt from Taco Bell, his wrist-watch, and a long-forgotten grocery list that proclaimed a need for only wine, toothpaste, and, inexplicably, a gallon of Elmer’s glue. “These were in your pockets when we found you on the beach,” the dark-skinned man explained. 

Grantaire put on his glasses. The blue-eyed boy was, upon a little inspection, was probably not really a boy at all—in fact, he and the dark-skinned man looked about the same age. They were both very handsome, which, to be honest, you can’t really blame Grantaire for noticing.

He picked up the watch. “It works.” He grinned as he looped it around his wrist. “It was a gift from a friend but it stopped ticking a while ago.” He looked up at the men standing before him. “Did you fix it?”

“Feuilly did,” explained the dark-skinned man. “He’s our resident handyman and carpenter, if you will. He also looked inside at that,” he said, pointing at the cell-phone. “He put it back together just as he saw it, so don’t be worried.”

Grantaire frowned at it and started messing with the buttons. The screen flickered a few times, but wouldn’t budge past a pixelated and glitchy lockscreen. 

“You’d think they’d waterproof these things before they sell ‘em to you for a grand,” muttered Grantaire as he hopelessly fiddled with it. “It was brand-new, too—“

“What does it do?” blurted the blue-eyed boy. He was staring at Grantaire warily, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes sharply, almost comically, tracked the movement of Grantaire’s phone in his hand. 

“It’s a phone,” said Grantaire stupidly. “What do you mean, what’s it do—ooh.” Suddenly it all came to him. He swept the remaining trinkets into his pockets and swiftly scrambled to stand. “Listen, I’m really sorry, please don’t, like, sacrifice me to your gods or whatever—“

“What are you rambling on about?” frowned the blue-eyed boy. 

“You’re one of those civilizations that hasn’t had outward human contact for centuries,” said Grantaire nervously. “Now you’re going to, I don’t know, cannibalize me because I’ve attempted to introduce you to outside technology—“

The dark-skinned man looked a little amused, but the blue-eyed boy mostly just looked pissed. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” he said sourly. “We’re people, not savages.”

“Well, forgive me,” said Grantaire. “I’ve crashed my boat on some random island God knows where and have apparently been rescued by two guys who don’t know what a telephone is. I feel like it’s reasonable to be a little cautious.”

“Being cautious is different than being prejudiced,” retorted the blue-eyed boy. “You shouldn’t accuse people of cannibalism, of all things, really, because of some bizarre preconceived notion of—“

“Enjolras,” tutted the dark-skinned man. The blue-eyed boy—Enjolras—glared at Grantaire once more before backing off. The dark-skinned man continued. “You said you had a boat? There wasn’t anything of the sort on the beach when we found you.”

“Urgh,” said Grantaire, dragging his hand over his face. He was getting awfully confused, and a little annoyed. That boat was his pride and joy, and also pretty expensive as far as all his other possessions went. He would miss it, wherever it fucked off to. Probably to the bottom of the Atlantic. 

The dark-skinned man looked at him inquisitively. “How about you and Enjolras go out to the shore to see if we missed anything important, and I’ll go talk to Joly—he’s the doctor who found you,” he explained. 

“We didn’t miss anything, Combeferre, and you know it,” muttered Enjolras. The dark-skinned man, Combeferre, shared a look with him, and Enjolras said something under his breath before turning back to Grantaire. “Let’s go, then.”

He brushed past Combeferre and Grantaire, walking stiffly out of the shade of the hut onto the beach, obviously annoyed. His curly hair bounced on his shoulders a little with the humidity, and his tan skin seemed to shimmer under the white sun. Hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave, thought Grantaire, perhaps a bit inappropriately, as he followed. 

As they approached the water, Enjolras paused and turned around. “Can I see that?” he asked, pointing at the phone still in Grantaire’s hand. He still looked vaguely unnerved, but clearly the curiosity in him won out. 

“Sure,” said Grantaire, giving it over. “It won’t work anymore, though, not with the water in it.”

Enjolras kind of ignored him, pushing at the buttons and tapping the screen. His tongue stuck out a little as he messed with it, which was unexpectedly cute for a guy who seemed to have a stick really far up his ass.

“You use it to call people,” said Grantaire, kind of at a loss of what to say. 

“How,” said Enjolras.

“Well, every phone has a number, and so you can input someone’s number into your phone whenever you want to talk to them and, um, yeah,” finished Grantaire lamely.

Enjolras made an inquisitive noise and opened his mouth to say something, but then glanced at the water. He handed the phone back to Grantaire, and his expression quickly changed from one of curiosity to one of resignation. “Well, we’d best start searching here--maybe we’ll find parts of your ship.”

Grantaire laughed. “Okay, first of all, it’s not a ship, it’s a speedboat, and second of all, I know for a fact you don’t want to spend any more time with me than you must. We can, like, pretend to look for shit for a while and then you can go back to whatever important business you have going on that I’m sure is more important than li'l ol’ me.”

Enjolras’ eyes hardened as he crossed his arms. “Do not presume what is and isn’t important to me. I am trying to help you.”

Grantaire just turned and started striding leisurely towards the water. “Thanks, but I don’t need it.”

Unsurprisingly, they found nothing but a few nice shells. Grantaire pocketed them purely for their shiny quality—Eponine would surely tease him about being ever the raccoon—and accompanied a silent Enjolras back to the hut. 

Underneath the open canopy was about a dozen people all sitting together. Some ate vibrant-colored fruits and nuts while others drank shimmering juice from hollowed wood or chipped glasses. They all seemed to be in quite jovial moods, though once Combeferre rose to meet Enjolras and Grantaire, they all settled down. 

“Find anything of note?” asked Combeferre, to which Enjolras just shook his head. “Ah, it’s what I thought. Regardless, I wanted for everyone to meet...erm—“

“I’m Grantaire,” said Grantaire, addressing the small crowd awkwardly, “but you may call me R if you’d like.”

“Well, you already know me and Enjolras,” said Combeferre, “but everyone else can be introduced, if you’d be amenable? Right here is Jehan, our musician, and next to him is Bahorel, who hunts, and—“

And like this it continued. Jehan the musician, Bahorel the hunter, Courfeyrac the entertainer, Joly the medic, Feuilly the handyman, and Bossuet who did whatever needed to be done. It was certainly a lot to take in, especially when all of them were undeniably handsome, with shining hair and clear skin. It a weird feeling. 

“We are very glad to have you, R,” said the young man sitting closest to Combeferre—Courfeyrac. “It’s been, geez, who knows how long since anyone new came around here! We hope you like it, really! We can get a room set up for you in no time, and we would love if you could—“

“About that,” interjected Grantaire. “I, uh, don’t know how to say this kindly, but I really don’t plan on staying here long. I have a family—well, friends really but we are basically family—and a home back in Maine, and I really need to be getting back. My best friend is called Eponine, and she has younger siblings to support, and I need to help pay rent. You understand that while I, er, really appreciate your hospitality, I really can’t be staying too long.”

“In that case, we will do everything we can to help you out, Grantaire,” Combeferre replied, and the others nodded or voiced their assent. 

Enjolras stayed silent, but apparently Combeferre glared at him enough for him to offer a simple, if slightly awkward clap on Grantaire’s shoulder. 

Grantaire chuckled, a little fazed from all the positive attention. Though he really did want to get home, he could definitely use a little vacation, and this seemed to be just the right place for a little relaxation before returning. 

It was late afternoon when he and Enjolras returned from the beach, and the gathering of the others lasted well into the evening. Grantaire partook in many a fresh fruit or roasted fish, and before long he melted easily into the jovial camaraderie. Everyone seemed to regard him as a quick friend, which Grantaire appreciated quietly. It was a bit strange to have people that weren’t Eponine or Gavroche enjoy his company when he wasn’t plastered off his ass. He and Bossuet talked puns for longer than they should have, and only stopped when Grantaire got absorbed into Bahorel’s story about catching a fish with his bare hands. Jehan showed him a few tunes on his simple flute, and Joly forbid him from going out of his sight before receiving a full medical exam. Though Enjolras stayed mostly silent while his friends chatted with Grantaire, it was actually he who walked Grantaire to where he would sleep. 

“I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with me,” said Enjolras as he led him into a smaller, enclosed room. While there were several buildings consisting of just a roof and beams to support it, it seemed that those with walls and windows were to be private. “I am aware that it is likely not what you are used to. You may take whichever you like.”

”Thanks,” said Grantaire, sitting on the woven hammock to the left. Though it was after sundown, the bright light of a full moon dimly lit the room through the many windows. The room was certainly compact, especially with a second hammock haphazardly strewn up, and was filled with sheets of paper, some bound by wooden or cloth covers, others just piled seemingly at random. It intrigued Grantaire, but the large yawn that wracked his body reminded him that it could wait until tomorrow. “Well, good night,” he said, pulling off his shirt and tugging down his shorts and climbing into the surprisingly comfortable hammock. 

“Yes, um, good night,” said Enjolras quietly. Thankfully the moonlight was just strong enough to reveal the pinkish blush that took over his tanned skin. 

Cute, thought Grantaire, before falling asleep. He dreamt only of his home in Maine.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t currently have any active social media, but you can look at some art at @zoraed on Instagram (haven’t posted on there in too long either). 
> 
> Kudos and comments are the reason I am motivated to write. If you liked this please consider dropping a kudos or a comment! It would make my day!


End file.
